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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762556">Vulcan Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse'>celticmuse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:47:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christine Chapel/Spock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Vulcan Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>************************************************************************<br/>"Here?" Spock raised a skeptical eyebrow as he surveyed the small nondescript storage room.</p>
<p>
"Yes, get in here,” Christine countered impatiently with a raised eyebrow of her own. "We have less than ten minutes. I didn't exactly have time to book a room at the Four Seasons on Risa." </p><p>
"Actually, nine point four one minutes would be more precise." </p><p>
"Damn it, Spock, just get the hell in here now!" </p><p>
The door made a gentle swishing sound as it closed tightly behind him, followed by the soft clicking sound of the electronic privacy lock engaging. "Are you not on duty at this time, Doctor Chapel?" </p><p>
"Yes I am, Sir. Although I don't recall that having ever been an issue in the past, Sir," she responded brightly, adding a perfect Star Fleet regulation salute. "That ticking sound you hear is the sound of my biological clock, mister, so tick-tock step up to the plate." </p><p>
"Christine, this is highly illogical," he argued looking around the cramped room again. </p><p>
"I'll tell you what's 'highly illogical', mister," she responded placing her hands on her hips. "I find it highly illogical that you're beaming down on a landing party with the Captain for three days when I'm ovulating." </p><p>
"But…" Spock tried to respond but reconsidered any possible response to the, no doubt, hormonally compromised woman, as she held up a silencing finger and the forbidding scowl deepened. </p><p>
"Okay, here are your choices. You can go tell the Captain that he can beam down to the planet and piss off yet another galactic species by himself, or you can drop your pants and get to work." </p><p>
She moved toward him seductively, her wonderfully curved hips swaying with unspeakable promises, and he responded by pulling her to him and claiming her velvety soft lips in a passionate languorous kiss. </p><p>
"What are you doing?" she asked crossly, breaking the kiss and pushing at his finely muscled chest with palm of her open hand. </p><p>
 "If you find it necessary to ask I must assume that I am not doing it properly." </p><p>
"There's no time for that," she tapped the chrono on her wrist for emphasis. </p><p>
"But Christine…" he stammered his cheeks blossoming to a delicate verdigris hue.”If we don't…" he shook his head trying to push through the sudden feeling of awkwardness. He leaned close and whispered in her ear, "You…your body… It will be unprepared…"</p><p>
"That won't be a problem," she whispered back, her voice soft, sultry like a hot desert breeze. "I sort of started before you got here." </p><p>
"Indeed," he responded. </p><p>
"Okay," she sighed "think of it as a logistics problem. You are the captain of a freighter full of very important, time sensitive cargo that needs to be offloaded. You just need to get the shuttle craft into the cargo bay… and now you have six minutes." </p><p>
"Ah," he nodded seriously, "You are attempting to appeal to my romantic nature, however I am not certain I can get the shuttle "up" and running and complete the mission given such a short window of opportunity." </p><p>
The scowl slowly returned to her face, and her hands returned to her hips." Just Vulcan up and do it," she responded tartly. </p><p>
"Christine..." </p><p>
"Okay," she said confidently, "I didn't want it to come to this… you know the special thing I do?" she said gravely using the first and middle fingers of each hand to embellish the words, special thing, with ersatz quotation marks, "the special thing that you like so much?" </p><p>
The amused look in the Vulcan's eyes suddenly showed a trace of alarm as he nodded. "I am inordinately fond of the ‘special thing’," he agreed anxiously. </p><p>
"Well," she continued, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. "It is possible that I may be taking the ‘special thing’ off of the menu." </p><p>
"I see," he tapped his finger lightly against his lips, apparently weighing his options. Without warning he moved on her, pressing her backward against the low shelving unit with one powerful hand while his free hand swept away the stacked boxes of supplies on the top of the unit. He eased her back and slightly up onto the narrow surface, his long fingers deftly unfastening the closure of his uniform pants. </p><p>
"If the ‘special thing’ is in danger, then perhaps a Vulcan warship would be in order," he whispered, his rough baritone sending shivers through Christine. Running his hand up her silken thigh he was not particularly surprised to discover that she was wearing nothing underneath her short skirt to impede the ever so delicate progress of his fingertips. He nodded softly, it was as she had told him, she was physically quite ready and indeed most eager, it appeared, to join with him. Satisfied that he would not hurt her, he entered her quickly, pausing only a few seconds to relish the feeling of being inside of her before moving in a building rhythm within her. </p><p>
"Harder," she groaned urging him on, and he was most pleased to oblige her as his senses narrowed to one focal point, every fiber of his being joined in common purpose moving toward one ancient intention. Frantically his hands found her face, the sensitive fingertips seeking the psi points. He thrust himself into her mind as he thrust himself into her cool depths, ensnaring her in the visceral vortex of burning need and pulling her along with him over the edge into a tidal wave of indescribably bliss. </p><p>
He removed himself ever so gently from her mind, even as he withdrew from her body. </p><p>
Reaching across to a neighboring shelf she retrieved a container of cleansing wipes and handed them to him as she sighed contentedly. </p><p>
"I didn't know Vulcan had warships?" she asked seriously, struggling to suppress a fit of laughter. </p><p>
"They do not," he responded thoughtfully, "nor do you have a restaurant or a "menu", but they were an entertaining pair of metaphors do you not agree my wife?" He pulled her close and gave her a warm deep kiss. Tenderly he placed his hand on the swell of her abdomen and whispered something which she recognized as his native Vulcan. Sensing her unspoken question he said, "I am asking the ancestors to watch over you, and to find it in their wisdom to grant us a child to honor them." </p><p>
The pair shared another kiss then he said, "I must go T'hy'la, the Captain will be waiting." </p><p>
She responded with a gentle nod. </p><p>
"I trust that the ‘menu’ shall remain unchanged when I return?" he asked, as he checked his hair in the small mirror by the door, the barest suggestion of a smile playing across his gaunt features. </p><p>
"I believe that you will find anything you desire available upon your return." </p><p>
Spock tapped the small illuminated panel next to the door and the privacy lock disengaged making a soft beeping sound. </p><p>
"Even the ‘special thing’?" he asked as the steel door slid open and he stepped into the deserted hallway. </p><p>
"Can you keep a secret?" she asked her eyes sparkling. </p><p>
"I am Vulcan, Christine," he responded dryly, attempting to fend off the minor feeling of offense he felt at her question. "My people are among the most circumspect in the universe." </p><p>
"I too," she smiled seductively as the door slowly closed, "am inordinately fond of the ‘special thing’." </p><p>
"Fascinating," he said to no one in particular as he walked briskly in the direction of the turbolift. As he waited for the lift to arrive he found himself illogically hoping that the Captain would somehow refrain from pissing off the people on the planet below, and he would be able to return to the ship as quickly as possible.</p>
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